The Golden Scar
Thorne, you are a dead man walking and you know it. Director Halloway did not shout. He simply let the words hang in the stale air of the office, heavy as wet wool, while I stood before his desk with the destruction order in my hand. The paper was cheap, thin, and smelled of the chemical dust that permeated every corridor of the Bureau. My fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer...
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